Our journey through infertility, failed adoptions and now parenthood through the miracle of embryo adoption/donation.

Sunday, August 9, 2009


Sunday. The Lord's day. Church. All reasons to rejoice. Yet Sunday is by far the most difficult day of the week for me as it is for many infertile couples. I love my church and church family and enjoy being with them, but it is while with them that I cannot ignore my empty arms. It begins from the moment I pull into a parking space and the van next to me has a car seat or two in it. Then as I walk into church I pass a mom holding a toddler's hand then a father dropping a baby off in the nursery. During church it is the prayer request for the pregnant mom or the announcement that so and so had her baby. After church it is the mom gathering her chickies together while I grab my Bible and purse and walk out alone. These differences are more obvious when my husband is out of town and I attend alone.

I try to remain focused on Him on Sundays but I will admit that this is not always easy. I try so hard not to let infertility overshadow what should be a joyous day, but infertility is an ugly monster that follows me wherever I go, pointing out my inadequacies at every opportunity. Infertility never takes a vacation. It is always there. Have you ever seen the Weight Watchers commercial with the little orange guy name Hunger? Well, I have one of those but it is green like envy and prickly, nothing fluffy and friendly about it. No matter how fast I run or how much I try to hide, infertility finds me. He pokes and prods me when a pregnant woman walks by and tells me that I will never feel a baby's kick. He whispers in my ear when I hear a baby's cry and tells me that I will never hear that sound in my home. He forces my eyes to gravitate to families and my heart to ache for what I do not have.

I often cry out to Him asking that this desire for a family be removed or that this
infertility be "cured". Yet I hear no answer. No yes. No no. Not even wait. Just silence. One day I pray that I will be able to look back and see the path that He has led me down and know the reason for infertility, but right now I have no answers, only questions. Why me? Why this long? Will it ever end? And if it does end and we have children I know that infertility will never go away. It has left an indelible mark on my soul. A baby would bring me comfort and joy, but the sorrow over the lost years will remain until eternity. It is just the way it is. Nothing ever cures the pain that we have gone through. A baby will just make it worth it all.

So for all of you hurting on this Lord's day, my thoughts and prayers are with you. For those that are surrounding my your children, say a prayer for those of us with empty arms. A smile and a kind word helps as well.

1 comment:

  1. Please hang in there!!! I felt exactly how you did. Don't let the devil convince you that your arms will be empty forever. They won't!!! In God's perfect time, all of this will be a distant memory.



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